


Start of Time

by Maleyah (Katherine_Kat)



Series: Season 15 Codas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel POV, Coda 15x18, Despair, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Hope, M/M, Mal wrote a thing, post episode 15x18, we aren't done yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27460717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine_Kat/pseuds/Maleyah
Summary: Except he never expected to be awake for the aftermath.You see, he can hear Dean's prayers.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Season 15 Codas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015657
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	Start of Time

**Author's Note:**

> For hella obvious reasons, this needed to be written. Unbeta'ed.
> 
> Title is Start of Time, by Gabrielle Lapin. Because hope is all there is. Two more weeks. Take us home.
> 
> Hugs,  
> Mal

Time has always been an endless source for Castiel. Mortality doesn't factor into much when you're an Angel of the Lord, there at the start of time. It wasn't until he started to experience emotions that the human expression of time slipping through his fingers began to carry any meaning. Ten years worth of meaning. Of yearning and brazen glances. Of intimate moments of quiet understanding and the comfort of enough hugs that he should have lost count, but he hasn't. He remembers each and every moment where he got to connect with Dean, with Humanity, with the world over and over, reminding himself of the bright, golden light of Dean's heart through all the despair. Of how unexpectedly and deeply knowing Dean affected him. It was enough to _be in love_. To have said it out loud. To know that it exists in Dean's heart and provides the balm he deserves.

Except he never expected to be awake for the aftermath.

You see, he can hear Dean's prayers. Even here. At first, he thought he was simply losing his mind in the endless deep and darkened sea of black. Remembering the minute changes in expression that rippled across Dean's face during those final life-altering, split seconds that were theirs... But the whispers are too intimate. The crying cuts too deep. The anger is too familiar. And worst of all, the love runs too deep. He knows Dean's soul better than anything in the known universes, anything from the start of time to now, here, where time supposedly doesn't exist. His emotions sing to the tunes of stars being born, their bond extends beyond galaxies. He's been used to living with this in silence. This isn't new, but hurts more than before.

Perhaps he was supposed to be asleep. Perhaps this is Chuck's final, petty move. Or the Empty's. He hasn't seen her since she took him. Instead he's only been aware of Dean. His broken words, sometimes in white hot fury, other times slurred. Sometimes almost desperate in their intent, when it feels like a last stand, another stab at Chuck. But it always circles back to endless, sleepless nights and his heart wrenches. He knows _exactly_ what those look like. What it means for Sam and Jack, if they're still around. If an Angel could upchuck their stomach content, he would have. The only silver lining is that as long as he can hear him praying, it also means he's still alive. Though perhaps that is quickly becoming too selfish a thought, when that equals Dean is in constant pain, fighting an endless battle with an enemy he can't even see, be that Chuck or...

Is this the final moment? Is this what they fought for? To remain forever stuck in this dance macabre, Dean screaming into the void, Castiel unable to reply. Hoping to erode both of them on either side of the veil, until there is nothing left but husks of what they once were. And, _someone_ protect them, it will. Eventually this will destroy them both. Should he wish for Dean to fall silent - his whole being rebels at the mere thought, but every prayer is...

"No," he screams into the Empty. Loses himself to roaring the last ounce of fight he has in him to the dark. "This can't be all that's left! We aren't done!"

Eventually his voice gives out. He cries. Time is meaningless, except when it is all you have left. Dean's prayers come in non-stop. He walks endlessly. Alone, if not for his beloved's voice. Sometimes he thinks he can taste the salt of his tears. Feel the erratic beating of the Righteous Man's heart, giving out under the agony of these losses.

The darkness is endless.

Until...

His breath hitches and he tilts his head. He jerks bodily towards the speck of colour.

Something aglow. Yellow. Red. Blue. Black on black. Only one colour is missing, truly, but he isn't here.

He peers closer. Within the billowing light, he recognizes the familiar outline of spiky hair and the scent of brimstone. Of rebellion incarnate.

"Lucifer...?"

His laugh cuts through the air like lightning. He isn't alone. Behind him, an army of angels and demons alike materialize.

"We heard an awful racket," Lucifer drawls. "Took us a while to assemble ourselves. You said you weren't done yet, little one?"

Wings, down and leather alike, spread tall and wide, their energy making The Empty around them shimmer like the air on a melting summer's day.


End file.
